I recently got the opportunity to go with Big Red (a very petite little redhead) and Beauty to Chicago. They are friends from nursing school that have now moved away from College Town and we decided to go be adventurous.
For those that may/may not know, I love the Divergent series and the Hunger Games series. These movies had just released their first movies when I was newly going through the after effects of my first sexual assault from exboyfriend and the problems following Country Boy's suicide.
At first, I could not handle these movies. They are intense. Divergent has a scene where Tris is attacked by 3 guys who attempt to throw her into this cavern to her death. Tris also experiences the aftermath of a friend committing suicide.
After a couple of tries of watching the movies (yes, it took me multiple times of watching a few minutes at a time before I could get through the movies. However, once I got through them, I began to watch them over and over. I felt comforted by them, but could not peg why such dark movies meant so much to me and were able to comfort me so well.
After months and months of thinking about it, I came to this conclusion: I felt like Tris and Katniss.
They were experiencing constant war; I was fighting an epic battle of my own. They were outcasts with something to fight for; I too felt like an outcast with things to do in my life and something to fight for. They experienced much heartache, trauma, and flashbacks; sound familiar to anything I have written about? These young women survived, against all odds, terrible circumstances. I survived a friend's suicide, multiple sexual assaults/rapes, self harm, suicide attempts, domestic violence, loss of friends, college (against all odds, and nursing school was difficult without the addition of my PTSD), and yet I continued on.
When Big Red first suggested taking a trip, I didn't want to go. I didn't want to spend the money and go be triggered for a solid 4 days with no relief (as I knew would happen). I didn't want to do anything. It was proposed in one of my seasons of depression and exhaustion. Working two jobs, navigating the ups and downs associated with getting into counseling again, and struggling with friendships that had had their ups and downs that I still haven't fully healed from.
Eventually I agreed to go. One night I got this sudden wander lust and one of my bucket list destinations just so happened to be Chicago. Big Red had suggested 2 places and I immediately jumped on the "Chicago train". As we proceeded to plan, buy tickets, and get things in order, I realized (slowly) that Chicago is where the Divergent stories took place!
We started picking places we wanted to go and I chose the John Hancock Building (360 Chicago now) and the Navy Pier. The Pier is where Tris dominated capture the flag by climbing up the ferris wheel and Tris ziplines with the Dauntless Born initiates from the top of the John Hancock building (I think, don't quote me on that). Whatever, the John Hancock building had AMAZING views of the Pier and the rest of Chicago, especially at night, which is when we went.
My mom had often described her college experience as a very "romantic" time in her life. She came from a family that did not go to college, where she grew up without food most days. When she went to college, she was so excited and in unbelief that she had made it that far.
I never understood that feeling, until I got to Chicago. It felt like coming home. Not because I'm from there, or because I had ever been there, but it seemed like a place that had provided a backdrop to a story that got me through so many rough times. Basically, I'm secretly super sentimental and I was processing how far I had come from the time I first started attempting to watch Divergent and the Hunger Games Series to get to the point where I am now.
I did not share this reason for wanting to go to the Navy Pier, or Chicago for that matter, until my last night there with my friends. There was a time that I relied on them too much for support in my immediate post-trauma period, and I ended up overwhelming Beauty. When I had originally told Big Red what had happened to me, she cried in the middle of the mall as strangers strolled by and stared at us. Big Red does not cry, and I made her cry. Because of these experiences, I felt like I needed to avoid telling people my story. I didn't want to burden anyone with this overwhelming, crushing pain. It broke my heart to feel like I had hurt others because I shared my story with them. Looking back, I told Beauty far too much and "word vomited" my pain onto her. As far as Big Red goes, she was simply hurt because I had been hurt so horrifically and she was joining with me to feel that pain. She was mourning the injustices forced upon me. I didn't break her, she was validating how unfair it was for anyone, let alone her friend, to have to go through that. Especially from my first ever boyfriends.
I am now learning to be vulnerable and to share, without over-sharing. By sharing my reasoning for wanting to go to Chicago and see the Navy Pier after they had already agreed to go, they were able to share in my gratefulness and growth. They joined in my gladness because they had walked the most raw parts of my journey with me.
I can see G-d moving in my life friends. It's been awhile since I had been able to see it, but He's showing up so clearly I'm often dumbfounded.
Wednesday, March 14, 2018
Tuesday, March 13, 2018
Heaping Scoop of Dissappointment
I applied to graduate school for Nurse Midwifery to a campus that is a sister school to my alma mater. I thought it would be amazing! Go to school and graduate somewhere that is in the same school network... go do clinicals up where my parents live so I can just live with them... everything will be wonderful!
Well, I submitted my application and waited. One day, there in my email box, was an email inviting me to an interview day. Yes, they made a whole blessed day out of it. 8-4, there were 2 interviews (with all 16 of the faculty for the program), seminars from: current students, faculty from your specific specialty (there were other nurse practitioner applicants there too and they split us all up), financial aid, and several other people. Then, at the very end of the day, I had to write an essay! *sigh*
Then, I wait. Wait for their decision. Wait in hopes that I get in. Wait in trepidation that I wasn't what they were looking for, even though I was supposedly chosen out of hundreds of other applicants for this interview day.
This morning, after night shift, I got the call that I didn't get in. It's a bummer.
I called my mom and told her, but not with any more emotion than could be mustered to just state it matter-of-factly. She encouraged me that whatever the L-rd wants to have happen, will happen. "Maybe there are trips or something else you need to be available for," she suggested, in true Mom fashion. "Yeah," was all I could respond.
While I am not at the point of tears (because I believe my give-a-damn was broken with the trauma), I am disappointed. This was my first choice of schools. I have had so many other people apply to graduate school around me, and several of them were accepted to several schools on the first try! I keep hoping that they will email me back and tell me that the first email was a mistake and that I was actually accepted, but that longing seems to be more of the bargaining stage in my journey to acceptance.
It's funny because about a week ago, my mom met this lady who's daughter is one of the faculty members for the nurse-midwifery program at the university I wanted to attend. They got to talking and the lady gave my mom this faculty member's email and encouraged me to reach out to her. So, I emailed the lady, saying that "my mom met your mom and they wanted me to email you" but she never responded. It is awkward to begin with, but worse now that I know I wasn't accepted.
I don't really want to wait until next year to begin school, only because I wanted to graduate 2020 to keep my high school graduation (2012) even with my college graduation (2016) then grad school to be finished in 2020. How pretty is that?! Alas, it doesn't seem like it will happen. Plus, I want to get married and start a family at some point. I was really hoping to graduate and be settled before this happens.
Only the L-rd knows why things happen the way that they do. All I can do is pray and follow His lead.
In less painful news, I quit my position at the NICU. For those of you that haven't read all of my happenings; I was working NICU and L&D, for several months now. When I first moved back here, I was hired for L&D, but there was no position open. I know what you are thinking, why hire somebody for a position that is not open?! Yeah, I'm not sure. Regardless, the managers of L&D decided that they still wanted me, but bargained with me that I could be hired and would need to work Mom/Baby while waiting for an L&D position to open up.
I was so torn. I had had offers for several NICU positions around the state. I didn't want to give up my critical care specialty for anything other than a position that would be able to further my career. As such, I bargained with that manager, and the NICU manager that offered me a position at a level 3 NICU at the same time. I got both managers agree to let me work both jobs at the same time, with working part-time at both places. They both agreed, and both agreed to be "flexible" with my scheduling to assist me with this endeavor.
Fast-forward about a month and a half into working NICU: I have already had several scheduling problems with NICU because the people in charge of scheduling will not email me back after several weeks! My manager called me to yell at me, and I stood my ground. I gave her evidence and explained to her the many, many ways I had tried to resolve the issue, with no success. HR had emailed about how the unit could be improved and I responded with several pages worth of diplomatically worded suggestions. Spoiler alert: none of those changes were made. Shocker, I know. Continue on in my journey there, and I find out about legal actions being taken, they refuse to train me to the level 3 kids (even though I have level 3 experience and they begin training those hired after me to train to the critical kids before me), they continue to con me into working day shift holidays where I am losing time with my family as well as night shift differential. The list goes on!
The reason I stayed so long, is that I thought I needed to work NICU for 2 years before I could get my critical care nurse certification (RNC). About 4 days ago, I was reading over the requirements again, and I discovered I needed 2 years as an RN, but only some of my career needed to be in NICU!!! WHAT A WONDERFUL DISCOVERY!!!
I learned this little tidbit, while I was working L&D and I was nearly singing and dancing in the halls! I told everyone of my coworkers about it!!! Suddenly, my decision was clear: quit NICU. Life is too short to be dreading every. single. shift. Work is not the end-all-be-all of life. We work to be able to afford fun things, trips, food, etc. I don't need to sustain this life of being miserable at a work where management does not treat me well, my license is not safe to practice there, I don't agree with their practices, they continually screw me out of pay while requiring more and more from me, and day-shift (plus many night-shifters) are rude and miserable there as well!
So I quit. Then, I worked an L&D shift and they all celebrated with me. Such joy from my coworkers! They shared how glad they were that I am there. They fought over keeping me on their pod (we have 2 with a little hallway in between). The patients are communicated the same information from everybody, so they are grateful and understanding of the care they receive. (NICU nurses at the other place were regularly told different things from each nurse/nurse practitioner/doctor they encountered because there are no protocols and everybody practices based on how they were trained somewhere else.) While there are still people that I clash with in L&D, we are largely coherent on night shift, and even several of day shift people. They encourage my sarcastic jokes, dark humor, and general personality quirks. They like my hard-work and how much I try to help my patients through labor and delivery. They like that I do my best to continually learn and improve and help others when I can. They understand me better.
I like it here.
Well, I submitted my application and waited. One day, there in my email box, was an email inviting me to an interview day. Yes, they made a whole blessed day out of it. 8-4, there were 2 interviews (with all 16 of the faculty for the program), seminars from: current students, faculty from your specific specialty (there were other nurse practitioner applicants there too and they split us all up), financial aid, and several other people. Then, at the very end of the day, I had to write an essay! *sigh*
Then, I wait. Wait for their decision. Wait in hopes that I get in. Wait in trepidation that I wasn't what they were looking for, even though I was supposedly chosen out of hundreds of other applicants for this interview day.
This morning, after night shift, I got the call that I didn't get in. It's a bummer.
I called my mom and told her, but not with any more emotion than could be mustered to just state it matter-of-factly. She encouraged me that whatever the L-rd wants to have happen, will happen. "Maybe there are trips or something else you need to be available for," she suggested, in true Mom fashion. "Yeah," was all I could respond.
While I am not at the point of tears (because I believe my give-a-damn was broken with the trauma), I am disappointed. This was my first choice of schools. I have had so many other people apply to graduate school around me, and several of them were accepted to several schools on the first try! I keep hoping that they will email me back and tell me that the first email was a mistake and that I was actually accepted, but that longing seems to be more of the bargaining stage in my journey to acceptance.
It's funny because about a week ago, my mom met this lady who's daughter is one of the faculty members for the nurse-midwifery program at the university I wanted to attend. They got to talking and the lady gave my mom this faculty member's email and encouraged me to reach out to her. So, I emailed the lady, saying that "my mom met your mom and they wanted me to email you" but she never responded. It is awkward to begin with, but worse now that I know I wasn't accepted.
I don't really want to wait until next year to begin school, only because I wanted to graduate 2020 to keep my high school graduation (2012) even with my college graduation (2016) then grad school to be finished in 2020. How pretty is that?! Alas, it doesn't seem like it will happen. Plus, I want to get married and start a family at some point. I was really hoping to graduate and be settled before this happens.
Only the L-rd knows why things happen the way that they do. All I can do is pray and follow His lead.
In less painful news, I quit my position at the NICU. For those of you that haven't read all of my happenings; I was working NICU and L&D, for several months now. When I first moved back here, I was hired for L&D, but there was no position open. I know what you are thinking, why hire somebody for a position that is not open?! Yeah, I'm not sure. Regardless, the managers of L&D decided that they still wanted me, but bargained with me that I could be hired and would need to work Mom/Baby while waiting for an L&D position to open up.
I was so torn. I had had offers for several NICU positions around the state. I didn't want to give up my critical care specialty for anything other than a position that would be able to further my career. As such, I bargained with that manager, and the NICU manager that offered me a position at a level 3 NICU at the same time. I got both managers agree to let me work both jobs at the same time, with working part-time at both places. They both agreed, and both agreed to be "flexible" with my scheduling to assist me with this endeavor.
Fast-forward about a month and a half into working NICU: I have already had several scheduling problems with NICU because the people in charge of scheduling will not email me back after several weeks! My manager called me to yell at me, and I stood my ground. I gave her evidence and explained to her the many, many ways I had tried to resolve the issue, with no success. HR had emailed about how the unit could be improved and I responded with several pages worth of diplomatically worded suggestions. Spoiler alert: none of those changes were made. Shocker, I know. Continue on in my journey there, and I find out about legal actions being taken, they refuse to train me to the level 3 kids (even though I have level 3 experience and they begin training those hired after me to train to the critical kids before me), they continue to con me into working day shift holidays where I am losing time with my family as well as night shift differential. The list goes on!
The reason I stayed so long, is that I thought I needed to work NICU for 2 years before I could get my critical care nurse certification (RNC). About 4 days ago, I was reading over the requirements again, and I discovered I needed 2 years as an RN, but only some of my career needed to be in NICU!!! WHAT A WONDERFUL DISCOVERY!!!
I learned this little tidbit, while I was working L&D and I was nearly singing and dancing in the halls! I told everyone of my coworkers about it!!! Suddenly, my decision was clear: quit NICU. Life is too short to be dreading every. single. shift. Work is not the end-all-be-all of life. We work to be able to afford fun things, trips, food, etc. I don't need to sustain this life of being miserable at a work where management does not treat me well, my license is not safe to practice there, I don't agree with their practices, they continually screw me out of pay while requiring more and more from me, and day-shift (plus many night-shifters) are rude and miserable there as well!
So I quit. Then, I worked an L&D shift and they all celebrated with me. Such joy from my coworkers! They shared how glad they were that I am there. They fought over keeping me on their pod (we have 2 with a little hallway in between). The patients are communicated the same information from everybody, so they are grateful and understanding of the care they receive. (NICU nurses at the other place were regularly told different things from each nurse/nurse practitioner/doctor they encountered because there are no protocols and everybody practices based on how they were trained somewhere else.) While there are still people that I clash with in L&D, we are largely coherent on night shift, and even several of day shift people. They encourage my sarcastic jokes, dark humor, and general personality quirks. They like my hard-work and how much I try to help my patients through labor and delivery. They like that I do my best to continually learn and improve and help others when I can. They understand me better.
I like it here.
Sunday, February 18, 2018
Some Push to Know "My Story"
In the last week, I have been slapped in the face, by G-d, several times to get my story figured out. There have been somewhere around 5 or more times that this has come up in this last week. I kid you not!
- Group therapy
- Individual counseling
- Bible study (several times over 3 week's worth of lessons, but I was behind on these particular lessons until just now... like G-d planned me being late on completing them or something...)
- Church service last night
- My "fun" fictional reading book about Ruth and Boaz
I know there have been other instances, but I cannot figure them out right now.
WHAT IS THIS PUSH FOR ME TO WRITE OUT MY STORY???!!!???
My story. The reason for the Hope that I have in the L-rd. Why I keep going.
But who am I going to tell? What is it that they need to hear from it? What is supposed to be used for someone else? It seems so many people around me are sharing their stories in a sentence or two. Am I supposed to keep it that short? Am I supposed to talk of Country Boy's suicide? Of what my childhood was like? How long is it supposed to be? Are we doing the G rated version or something a little more PG to PG-13. Obviously not with too many details, but I can tune those down while painting a picture for people. What audience am I writing for? How many people are there? How old are they? Do we want them to despise the male gender? Do I have to share about exBest Friend's crap? How long or short is it supposed to be ???!!!??? I NEED A RUBRIC AND SPECIFICATIONS!!!
I'm working on it folks. Stay tuned.
Saturday, February 17, 2018
Low Pressure System = Raining Babies
I went to a hot springs resort for a few days with my mom and brother about 2 weeks ago. Everything at work was fine before work, but when I started back with labor and delivery... the unit broke. We had so many emergency situations, babies that were not at all tolerating labor, and excessive amounts of blood. Of the last 8 days, I worked 7 and most of those were spent with me stressing over the moms and babies around me. I don't know what happened!!!
We had a low pressure system/pretty bad snowstorm role in and had 6 deliveries in one night and 3 as soon as shift change was complete in the morning. An emergency c section nearly every night and sometimes 2. We had several OB hemorrhages and even bleeding moms come back into the hospital from being at home.
This was my week and I'm so glad it is starting to simmer down for the patients. Now we just have to deal with our staff being sick and recovering from this ridiculous flu that has taken over everybody.
Meanwhile, I've felt so much lighter in my person struggles with sexual assault and trauma, plus the bullshit exBest Friend pulled.
I texted him, because he had been on my heart for awhile, but that ended quickly. He started making jokes about "doing it again" and saying it was a "fun night". Utter betrayal. I guess I was hoping for understanding, for support, for anything of what I though he had been. I needed the guy that drove me to the police station and waited in the lobby for 5 hours. I needed the friend that fought so hard to make me feel better and helped me to study when freshman year of college was getting to be too much.
I don't understand how I held out for his friendship for so long. I've struggled for so long with the way that he's treated me, and others, and his philosophies of life. He was never abusive or mean, but he definitely expected others to take care of him, even though he's a grown ass adult. He's one of those people for other people having millions of dollars, and he wants to live the rich life, but he's not about to go work a different job where he can work up the ladder. Nor would he want to work anything more than his max of 8-4 or 9-5, but let's be real here, he gets out a few hours early every day because he's salary. Then he expected me to make time, out of working 2 night shift jobs with shifts of 12 hours (so essentially, he wanted me to sleep a mere 4 hours a day for 6-7 days of the week). Plus, I was supposed to pay for me and/or him, when we went out places.
Moral of the story, it's been rough because I miss what life used to be, but I must have been delusional about what kind of friendship we had. Think about it, he only hung out with me because he wanted to date me. It's impressive to keep that crap going for over 5 years, but it helped that the crush took a little while to develop in college, and in nursing school, I didn't see him much. Then he had a long term girlfriend. So, what was our friendship anyway?
Lately, between my support group, personal counseling, bible study, and various other places, it seems as though I need to share my story. I'm trying to be articulate about what has happened, but more than the trauma, I was to articulate what G-d has done to get me through. I feel like I've come further in my healing in the past couple of weeks, after weeks of hardcore, constant wrestling with G-d. The yelling at Him; crying, scratch that, sobbing so hard that I couldn't breathe; and otherwise wracking my brain and demanding He tell me why things happened to me the way that they did. Begging Him for peace and comfort and help. I'm still working on some stuff, and He's still showing me things and working on me too. It'll take the rest of my life, but for the first time since Country Boy died (in March 2014), I feel like I can breathe. I feel like I am now being challenged to know and be able to explain why I have the hope and faith in G-d that I do, despite what's happened.
We had a low pressure system/pretty bad snowstorm role in and had 6 deliveries in one night and 3 as soon as shift change was complete in the morning. An emergency c section nearly every night and sometimes 2. We had several OB hemorrhages and even bleeding moms come back into the hospital from being at home.
This was my week and I'm so glad it is starting to simmer down for the patients. Now we just have to deal with our staff being sick and recovering from this ridiculous flu that has taken over everybody.
Meanwhile, I've felt so much lighter in my person struggles with sexual assault and trauma, plus the bullshit exBest Friend pulled.
I texted him, because he had been on my heart for awhile, but that ended quickly. He started making jokes about "doing it again" and saying it was a "fun night". Utter betrayal. I guess I was hoping for understanding, for support, for anything of what I though he had been. I needed the guy that drove me to the police station and waited in the lobby for 5 hours. I needed the friend that fought so hard to make me feel better and helped me to study when freshman year of college was getting to be too much.
I don't understand how I held out for his friendship for so long. I've struggled for so long with the way that he's treated me, and others, and his philosophies of life. He was never abusive or mean, but he definitely expected others to take care of him, even though he's a grown ass adult. He's one of those people for other people having millions of dollars, and he wants to live the rich life, but he's not about to go work a different job where he can work up the ladder. Nor would he want to work anything more than his max of 8-4 or 9-5, but let's be real here, he gets out a few hours early every day because he's salary. Then he expected me to make time, out of working 2 night shift jobs with shifts of 12 hours (so essentially, he wanted me to sleep a mere 4 hours a day for 6-7 days of the week). Plus, I was supposed to pay for me and/or him, when we went out places.
Moral of the story, it's been rough because I miss what life used to be, but I must have been delusional about what kind of friendship we had. Think about it, he only hung out with me because he wanted to date me. It's impressive to keep that crap going for over 5 years, but it helped that the crush took a little while to develop in college, and in nursing school, I didn't see him much. Then he had a long term girlfriend. So, what was our friendship anyway?
Lately, between my support group, personal counseling, bible study, and various other places, it seems as though I need to share my story. I'm trying to be articulate about what has happened, but more than the trauma, I was to articulate what G-d has done to get me through. I feel like I've come further in my healing in the past couple of weeks, after weeks of hardcore, constant wrestling with G-d. The yelling at Him; crying, scratch that, sobbing so hard that I couldn't breathe; and otherwise wracking my brain and demanding He tell me why things happened to me the way that they did. Begging Him for peace and comfort and help. I'm still working on some stuff, and He's still showing me things and working on me too. It'll take the rest of my life, but for the first time since Country Boy died (in March 2014), I feel like I can breathe. I feel like I am now being challenged to know and be able to explain why I have the hope and faith in G-d that I do, despite what's happened.
Wednesday, February 7, 2018
Open Letter to Best Friend
Dear Best Friend,
I recently texted you after 3 months of not talking (my decision). The text was a looooooong apology. I apologized for mixed signals, not sticking to my boundaries, for not being a good friend when you've been so supportive in the past. I told you I have missed you and I have missed having my "best friend" around in a time of great need. The apologies were many, and long, and heartfelt.
What did you text back? You told me you didn't know what to say but that you've missed me too. Then, you gave me a rundown of your last 3 months of life.
I can appreciate that. I can understand wanting to move on and pretend like nothing happened. I get it, I'm not dumb. Plus, I know how guys work and how your brain works because I've studied guys and I know you. I've been around you and talking with you about the deep things of life for 5+ years. I figured you out. You tell me that all the time.
You then proceeded to make jokes and say "we should do it again" and referred to it as "a night of fun". That's when I went from disappointed that you didn't feel the need to acknowledge my pain from the apologies, to beyond angry and my blood went boiling. You had the nerve to shove it in my face that something that has caused me so much pain did, in fact, happen. And then you're going to minimize it and make me feel cheap by calling it a "night of fun" and say that we should "do it again" since we probably won't have a friendship the way we had before.
Fuck you.
I cried in your car. I have explained to you how much this hurt me. I have told you that I don't remember a cursed thing about that night and that I was upset with the decisions you made against my wished and my plans. And you want to make jokes at my expense and expect me to not be upset?!? No. No. No. No. NO.
I don't know why I feel the need to apologize over and over. I don't understand it myself. Probably some disfunction that I also feel the need to compulsively apologize for.
When you begin texting me, like nothing has changed, and I come up with the idea that we stop talking again, don't be surprised. Don't be upset, don't expect anything less. There's a good chance I'm just going to block you again without saying anything. I've tried the friends thing. I've tried to move on, and you make jokes at my expense. You ignored my boundaries. You continued to push me after I was already crying, hyperventilating, and freaking out. It was enough to even freak you out. You took advantage of someone who you knew was already hurting and who had been very clear. You broke my very fragile trust and then decided that I am not worth the dirt on your shoes. I mean nothing to you. I can take the hint.
Foolish me believed that you had my best interest in mind. I was dumb enough to believe that I could forgive and move past and that you would be sensitive to my hurting that I fucking spelled out for you.
Man alive, I'm such an idiot sometimes.
I hope you have a nice life.
Signed,
A girl trying to allow G-d to make Beauty from these Ashes
I recently texted you after 3 months of not talking (my decision). The text was a looooooong apology. I apologized for mixed signals, not sticking to my boundaries, for not being a good friend when you've been so supportive in the past. I told you I have missed you and I have missed having my "best friend" around in a time of great need. The apologies were many, and long, and heartfelt.
What did you text back? You told me you didn't know what to say but that you've missed me too. Then, you gave me a rundown of your last 3 months of life.
I can appreciate that. I can understand wanting to move on and pretend like nothing happened. I get it, I'm not dumb. Plus, I know how guys work and how your brain works because I've studied guys and I know you. I've been around you and talking with you about the deep things of life for 5+ years. I figured you out. You tell me that all the time.
You then proceeded to make jokes and say "we should do it again" and referred to it as "a night of fun". That's when I went from disappointed that you didn't feel the need to acknowledge my pain from the apologies, to beyond angry and my blood went boiling. You had the nerve to shove it in my face that something that has caused me so much pain did, in fact, happen. And then you're going to minimize it and make me feel cheap by calling it a "night of fun" and say that we should "do it again" since we probably won't have a friendship the way we had before.
Fuck you.
I cried in your car. I have explained to you how much this hurt me. I have told you that I don't remember a cursed thing about that night and that I was upset with the decisions you made against my wished and my plans. And you want to make jokes at my expense and expect me to not be upset?!? No. No. No. No. NO.
I don't know why I feel the need to apologize over and over. I don't understand it myself. Probably some disfunction that I also feel the need to compulsively apologize for.
When you begin texting me, like nothing has changed, and I come up with the idea that we stop talking again, don't be surprised. Don't be upset, don't expect anything less. There's a good chance I'm just going to block you again without saying anything. I've tried the friends thing. I've tried to move on, and you make jokes at my expense. You ignored my boundaries. You continued to push me after I was already crying, hyperventilating, and freaking out. It was enough to even freak you out. You took advantage of someone who you knew was already hurting and who had been very clear. You broke my very fragile trust and then decided that I am not worth the dirt on your shoes. I mean nothing to you. I can take the hint.
Foolish me believed that you had my best interest in mind. I was dumb enough to believe that I could forgive and move past and that you would be sensitive to my hurting that I fucking spelled out for you.
Man alive, I'm such an idiot sometimes.
I hope you have a nice life.
Signed,
A girl trying to allow G-d to make Beauty from these Ashes
Thursday, January 11, 2018
Over It.
This last week I had a meeting with my NICU manager. They call it a 90 day check-in... It's not meant to critique me, instead, it's a way for HR to say that they are trying to retain staff.
Boy, I am betting my manager was wishing I never came in. I let her know how unhappy I am, how difficult it is to come in to work and be given shit assignments. Every. Night. And how frustrated I am that others are being oriented to vents before me and they were hired after me. I don't know why I bother going over these things with her. I should just tell her everything's fine and I quit. But, the only thing I hold onto in my life is working on standing up for myself and documenting the troubles I encounter. It helped me through the crappy relationships, through school, through the troubles I experienced in Small Town. Documentation is all I have. So, I chose to let her have it. Tell her most of my grievances and explain why she will continue to lose mass amounts of staff over and over.
Yesterday morning I got yelled at by "Stinky-Poo Doctor". That's what I'll call him. I got the name from my counselor who has heard ALL about him. He yelled at me because I had to wait for an epidural. By the time the pt was ready for the epidural and I call anesthesia, another nurse on the floor called and asked if she could steal the anesthesiologist because her mama was an 8 (cm) while mine was 1 cm. I agreed, not knowing Stinky-Poo Doc was waiting out at the nurse's station for her. So he called from the nurse's station and yelled at me! Before letting me talk, he slammed the phone down. and immediately called back to tell me not to page him. "Okay" came out a little too happy (I'm so over his shit.) So he slammed the phone back down and I didn't see him the rest of the day.
I get that he's busy. I understand that he has meetings and stuff to do as a doctor, but he never made a plan with me to come in and check her in 30 minutes or a plan to put in an IUPC at a certain time. So why is he calling me, yelling at me for not having him come in to see her and do all these dumb things if he never told me he was going to? And he saw anesthesia come by and then go into the other room. I get that he didn't know the story, but I'm not going to try to fight with him on these things. He's going to think I'm making excuses and he wouldn't care anyway. That's just how he is.
Regardless, I am so sick of having to work with him. I would have quit right on the spot if I could. But it wouldn't do anything. He wouldn't get reprimanded. He wouldn't be chastised or change in any way. People have let him go along and bully everyone for so long that he knows he can just get away with it. I wish I could report him somehow, but there's nothing I can do. His aggression and moodiness makes work unbearable. I don't want to take his patients, I don't want to work when he is the in-house OB, I don't want to ever see him again IN MY LIFE. My fear is that other doctors will be like this if I were to move somewhere else.
I just don't understand why they are allowed to be such assholes and so persnickety and so ridiculous. We bend over backwards to make sure the doctors at this hospital have their exact gloves and choice of "checking fluid" (I hate using the word lube) and everything just right for them. I floated to our sister hospital in town and those doctors get their own gloves out of the delivery cart! They ask you when it would be a good time for them to break their waters so that it doesn't make too much work at the end of your shift. They believe us when we believe something is wrong or when we need help. They discuss things with you and don't start yelling at the nurses for stupid shit. I don't understand how our doctors have been able to get away with so much for so long that they think us nurses are their slaves. I really don't get it.
Then, a few hours after work, when I was in the middle of my ACLS course, I got a text from the day shift charge that I didn't chart on 30 minutes of fetal monitoring strip for the induction that came in 30 minutes late, while I was doing an epidural on my other lady (after the yelling). Between being overwhelmed with a 0530 induction that was late, and a pt who waited until 0530 to want her epidural, and stinking grumpy doctors, and and and. Plus I needed to get out of report and get to the other side of town for this stupid certification class. UGH!!! So, I missed a section of strip. 1 little bit of charting that I needed to do and I forgot. Of course it's on the day when the most nitpicky charge nurse is on who gets in everyone's face if you don't do things the way she does things.
So over it.
On days when I get overwhelmed, I have this scary daydream about having a central line and just letting it drain. Let it be placed, don't hook it up to any fluids or cap it off, and just let me drain slowly until I go to sleep and then eventually just go away. Part of me wants to know if the people who rag on me constantly would even care, but most of me wouldn't want to put my family through that. Honestly, I don't think the doctor would care if he knew that I quit or died because of how ridiculous he is. The charge nurse wouldn't care. But my family would be heartbroken. I'm not going to do it. I won't hurt myself. I think I just get so overwhelmed and see no way out of the stress, that it seems like it would be nice to not be here and going through it anymore.
I hope y'alls week is going much better. I'm gonna go try to sleep again.
-BA
Boy, I am betting my manager was wishing I never came in. I let her know how unhappy I am, how difficult it is to come in to work and be given shit assignments. Every. Night. And how frustrated I am that others are being oriented to vents before me and they were hired after me. I don't know why I bother going over these things with her. I should just tell her everything's fine and I quit. But, the only thing I hold onto in my life is working on standing up for myself and documenting the troubles I encounter. It helped me through the crappy relationships, through school, through the troubles I experienced in Small Town. Documentation is all I have. So, I chose to let her have it. Tell her most of my grievances and explain why she will continue to lose mass amounts of staff over and over.
Yesterday morning I got yelled at by "Stinky-Poo Doctor". That's what I'll call him. I got the name from my counselor who has heard ALL about him. He yelled at me because I had to wait for an epidural. By the time the pt was ready for the epidural and I call anesthesia, another nurse on the floor called and asked if she could steal the anesthesiologist because her mama was an 8 (cm) while mine was 1 cm. I agreed, not knowing Stinky-Poo Doc was waiting out at the nurse's station for her. So he called from the nurse's station and yelled at me! Before letting me talk, he slammed the phone down. and immediately called back to tell me not to page him. "Okay" came out a little too happy (I'm so over his shit.) So he slammed the phone back down and I didn't see him the rest of the day.
I get that he's busy. I understand that he has meetings and stuff to do as a doctor, but he never made a plan with me to come in and check her in 30 minutes or a plan to put in an IUPC at a certain time. So why is he calling me, yelling at me for not having him come in to see her and do all these dumb things if he never told me he was going to? And he saw anesthesia come by and then go into the other room. I get that he didn't know the story, but I'm not going to try to fight with him on these things. He's going to think I'm making excuses and he wouldn't care anyway. That's just how he is.
Regardless, I am so sick of having to work with him. I would have quit right on the spot if I could. But it wouldn't do anything. He wouldn't get reprimanded. He wouldn't be chastised or change in any way. People have let him go along and bully everyone for so long that he knows he can just get away with it. I wish I could report him somehow, but there's nothing I can do. His aggression and moodiness makes work unbearable. I don't want to take his patients, I don't want to work when he is the in-house OB, I don't want to ever see him again IN MY LIFE. My fear is that other doctors will be like this if I were to move somewhere else.
I just don't understand why they are allowed to be such assholes and so persnickety and so ridiculous. We bend over backwards to make sure the doctors at this hospital have their exact gloves and choice of "checking fluid" (I hate using the word lube) and everything just right for them. I floated to our sister hospital in town and those doctors get their own gloves out of the delivery cart! They ask you when it would be a good time for them to break their waters so that it doesn't make too much work at the end of your shift. They believe us when we believe something is wrong or when we need help. They discuss things with you and don't start yelling at the nurses for stupid shit. I don't understand how our doctors have been able to get away with so much for so long that they think us nurses are their slaves. I really don't get it.
Then, a few hours after work, when I was in the middle of my ACLS course, I got a text from the day shift charge that I didn't chart on 30 minutes of fetal monitoring strip for the induction that came in 30 minutes late, while I was doing an epidural on my other lady (after the yelling). Between being overwhelmed with a 0530 induction that was late, and a pt who waited until 0530 to want her epidural, and stinking grumpy doctors, and and and. Plus I needed to get out of report and get to the other side of town for this stupid certification class. UGH!!! So, I missed a section of strip. 1 little bit of charting that I needed to do and I forgot. Of course it's on the day when the most nitpicky charge nurse is on who gets in everyone's face if you don't do things the way she does things.
So over it.
On days when I get overwhelmed, I have this scary daydream about having a central line and just letting it drain. Let it be placed, don't hook it up to any fluids or cap it off, and just let me drain slowly until I go to sleep and then eventually just go away. Part of me wants to know if the people who rag on me constantly would even care, but most of me wouldn't want to put my family through that. Honestly, I don't think the doctor would care if he knew that I quit or died because of how ridiculous he is. The charge nurse wouldn't care. But my family would be heartbroken. I'm not going to do it. I won't hurt myself. I think I just get so overwhelmed and see no way out of the stress, that it seems like it would be nice to not be here and going through it anymore.
I hope y'alls week is going much better. I'm gonna go try to sleep again.
-BA
Tuesday, January 2, 2018
"Why did you stay?"
This is a question I've been asked many, many times when people hear even a smidge of my stories.
With exboyfriend, the police, detective, and my first counselor asked why I stayed the weekend after his first assault.
With exfiance, I've been much more secretive about my time with him, because I've already lost so many people because of him. I've learned to be alone and find contentment in being single, independent, and doing things solely by myself.
Last week, my counselor noted that I've been dissociated for the past few weeks, even in counseling. So, she asked me to talk about exfiance. My mind went blank (dissociation). I asked her what I should talk about and she began asking me basic questions. How did we meet? What was he like? How did it all start? Why did I let him hurt me so many times? Why did I not leave after his first assault like I did with exboyfriend? etc. etc. etc.
I was overcome with anger at being challenged, especially by someone who I had come to know synonymously with comfort and support. Tears were freely flowing at this point, though I had gotten through most of the questions with not an ounce of emotion while recalling our history and how it all started. However, the tears were spilling out like a fire hydrant when we got to the point of asking me why I stayed and let him to continue hurting me. In full defensiveness, I told her what I figured she already knew, "it's not that easy to just walk away, he wouldn't let me go".
It's true. Thus the restraining order attempt. He monopolized all my time from day 1, called and texted constantly, built me up for a few weeks, maybe a couple months, then he started the cycle of breaking me down and guilting me into staying. He brainwashed me, manipulated me to the umpteenth degree, tried to convince me I was nothing (and succeeded, for a little while). When I tried to leave, he told me he would go drive his truck into a tree because he couldn't imagine life without me. He played on all of my past traumas, to fully cement in my head that I was stuck.
Stuck with him. Stuck in an engagement, and eventual marriage, that was all a sham and started as pacification after the first assault. Stuck in abuse, convinced that that was simply my lot in life.
With this, I was introduced to the idea that I have no friends through this abuse because I was a terrible friend in the midst of it. For the 2 friends I trusted, I unloaded far too much information because I had nobody else to talk to. Then, when they stopped talking to me, it made no sense to me. But, after putting two and two together, I realized that it had been a pattern leading up to college that people simply came into my life for a time and promptly left. So, I thought nothing of it when this happened again amidst the trauma. I decided, purposely, to learn how to live without friends. Learn how to be alone. To go out and do fun things, alone. To finish nursing school, alone. I decided to stop getting hurt.
Unfortunately, this left me alone with exfiance.
The way my brain works is truly troubling. It shuts down and I can't communicate. You can ask me questions and if the answers cannot be a simple "yes" or "no", then it will be "I don't know". In truth I do know, but I need time to process. Time to write it out. Time to work my way through the dissociation to a point of being able to communicate and think again.
I went home and cried. Uncontrollable sobbing until I fell asleep early in the afternoon. I woke up a few hours later, my mind reeling. Rinse and repeat all week. I wracked my brain, trying to figure out why I'm such a terrible friend. Why I am such a target. What did I do that I deserve such terrible treatment? What did I do that I was being punished with mountains of abuse? Is my life a manifestation of punishment for a family sin? Maybe generations of family sins? What was so bad about me and so fundamentally wrong with who I am that relationships end in hurt every time? Am I really so unloveable that nobody wants me at all? No dating relationships no friendships?
I began to think back on my life. Did I not follow the rules? Did I not forgive 70 x 7 times and then continue to forgive after that? Did I not turn my cheek, try to forget wrongdoings against me, and attempt to continue on? Did I not love those who hurt me and try to show them G-d's love, just as we continually do things that are a slap in His face and He continues to take us back? Did I not strive to be a friend to those who had nobody, usually until they were accepted by the masses to simply leave me on the sidelines? Of course I saw the patterns, but everything in my past showed me I was just living the church girl life. I was doing all that I had been taught to do. Where did I go wrong?
All around me, I saw relationships falter, divorces run rampant, and those that weren't divorced were usually the ones stuck in relationships that made my relationship with exfiance look like a honeymoon. Yet, these women (primarily, and a couple of guys) found ways to be happy in the suffering. They learned to pacify the people they were with, and found ways out of the house to be able to have friends and fun with their kids without the terrible spouse.
I've noticed the patterns of families for years. Some families are large with lots of people always in your space. They love having tons of family members, cousins, aunt, uncles, etc that are all "close" with them and keeping up on their life happenings. Some families seem to have many kind people that have many terrible people that marry into the family. Others have families where nobody sees each other and the separate members of the family find pseudo families to belong to. There are other patterns, of course, but too many to rehash in this post.
Well, I figured that the pattern of nice people having terrible people marry into the family was my lot in life. With the exception of my uncle who is the spitting image of my terrible grandmother [who married into my grandfather's wonderful family]. That @$$h*!3 married my aunt and she is amazing and I love her and we claimed her in the divorce while completely ignoring my biological uncle for decades.
So, how was I supposed to know that my relationship with exfiance was not what it was supposed to be? All of my support systems left me high and dry. All of the relationships in my life pointed to nothing but finding happiness in the midst of a shitty relationship. Church taught me to forgive and turn the other cheek and try to love everyone and work to be Jesus to the nations. How was I supposed to know that following all of the fucking rules would lead to nothing but PTSD, deep depression, a loathing for my body and brain that is unparalleled to anything I have ever understood, and aloneness for the last 3 years of my life?
I read marriage/relationship books about how to be a better girlfriend and figure out how to have a happy relationship. I asked those that I could, studied blogs and everything I could find about relationships. I put in my hours trying to figure out why the only relationships I found myself in were ones that caused me mass amounts of pain. I even took a sexual assault nursing course (for all of 3 weeks until the flashbacks got too intense and I became thoroughly traumatized from the stories we had to read). I tried to figure out how to fix it, then I had to figure out how to leave, ALL BY MYSELF. I had to figure out red flags and final straws and escape plans, ALL BY MYSELF. I had to figure out how to survive so many terrible things ALL BY MYSELF.
That's why I couldn't leave. That's why I stayed for so long. I was in the Word, I was praying, I was going to church, I was reaching out for help and being met with silence at every turn. That's why I stayed. I was fighting to breathe and struggling to break free, and so no, I couldn't just walk out after the first assault. It took all I had to not find a way to die. I was even praying that G-d would just take me, any way He wanted, because I didn't even have the strength to do it myself. I was even helping Him by suggesting plans of how to take me!
Why did I stay? Because I couldn't leave.
With exboyfriend, the police, detective, and my first counselor asked why I stayed the weekend after his first assault.
With exfiance, I've been much more secretive about my time with him, because I've already lost so many people because of him. I've learned to be alone and find contentment in being single, independent, and doing things solely by myself.
Last week, my counselor noted that I've been dissociated for the past few weeks, even in counseling. So, she asked me to talk about exfiance. My mind went blank (dissociation). I asked her what I should talk about and she began asking me basic questions. How did we meet? What was he like? How did it all start? Why did I let him hurt me so many times? Why did I not leave after his first assault like I did with exboyfriend? etc. etc. etc.
I was overcome with anger at being challenged, especially by someone who I had come to know synonymously with comfort and support. Tears were freely flowing at this point, though I had gotten through most of the questions with not an ounce of emotion while recalling our history and how it all started. However, the tears were spilling out like a fire hydrant when we got to the point of asking me why I stayed and let him to continue hurting me. In full defensiveness, I told her what I figured she already knew, "it's not that easy to just walk away, he wouldn't let me go".
It's true. Thus the restraining order attempt. He monopolized all my time from day 1, called and texted constantly, built me up for a few weeks, maybe a couple months, then he started the cycle of breaking me down and guilting me into staying. He brainwashed me, manipulated me to the umpteenth degree, tried to convince me I was nothing (and succeeded, for a little while). When I tried to leave, he told me he would go drive his truck into a tree because he couldn't imagine life without me. He played on all of my past traumas, to fully cement in my head that I was stuck.
Stuck with him. Stuck in an engagement, and eventual marriage, that was all a sham and started as pacification after the first assault. Stuck in abuse, convinced that that was simply my lot in life.
With this, I was introduced to the idea that I have no friends through this abuse because I was a terrible friend in the midst of it. For the 2 friends I trusted, I unloaded far too much information because I had nobody else to talk to. Then, when they stopped talking to me, it made no sense to me. But, after putting two and two together, I realized that it had been a pattern leading up to college that people simply came into my life for a time and promptly left. So, I thought nothing of it when this happened again amidst the trauma. I decided, purposely, to learn how to live without friends. Learn how to be alone. To go out and do fun things, alone. To finish nursing school, alone. I decided to stop getting hurt.
Unfortunately, this left me alone with exfiance.
The way my brain works is truly troubling. It shuts down and I can't communicate. You can ask me questions and if the answers cannot be a simple "yes" or "no", then it will be "I don't know". In truth I do know, but I need time to process. Time to write it out. Time to work my way through the dissociation to a point of being able to communicate and think again.
I went home and cried. Uncontrollable sobbing until I fell asleep early in the afternoon. I woke up a few hours later, my mind reeling. Rinse and repeat all week. I wracked my brain, trying to figure out why I'm such a terrible friend. Why I am such a target. What did I do that I deserve such terrible treatment? What did I do that I was being punished with mountains of abuse? Is my life a manifestation of punishment for a family sin? Maybe generations of family sins? What was so bad about me and so fundamentally wrong with who I am that relationships end in hurt every time? Am I really so unloveable that nobody wants me at all? No dating relationships no friendships?
I began to think back on my life. Did I not follow the rules? Did I not forgive 70 x 7 times and then continue to forgive after that? Did I not turn my cheek, try to forget wrongdoings against me, and attempt to continue on? Did I not love those who hurt me and try to show them G-d's love, just as we continually do things that are a slap in His face and He continues to take us back? Did I not strive to be a friend to those who had nobody, usually until they were accepted by the masses to simply leave me on the sidelines? Of course I saw the patterns, but everything in my past showed me I was just living the church girl life. I was doing all that I had been taught to do. Where did I go wrong?
All around me, I saw relationships falter, divorces run rampant, and those that weren't divorced were usually the ones stuck in relationships that made my relationship with exfiance look like a honeymoon. Yet, these women (primarily, and a couple of guys) found ways to be happy in the suffering. They learned to pacify the people they were with, and found ways out of the house to be able to have friends and fun with their kids without the terrible spouse.
I've noticed the patterns of families for years. Some families are large with lots of people always in your space. They love having tons of family members, cousins, aunt, uncles, etc that are all "close" with them and keeping up on their life happenings. Some families seem to have many kind people that have many terrible people that marry into the family. Others have families where nobody sees each other and the separate members of the family find pseudo families to belong to. There are other patterns, of course, but too many to rehash in this post.
Well, I figured that the pattern of nice people having terrible people marry into the family was my lot in life. With the exception of my uncle who is the spitting image of my terrible grandmother [who married into my grandfather's wonderful family]. That @$$h*!3 married my aunt and she is amazing and I love her and we claimed her in the divorce while completely ignoring my biological uncle for decades.
So, how was I supposed to know that my relationship with exfiance was not what it was supposed to be? All of my support systems left me high and dry. All of the relationships in my life pointed to nothing but finding happiness in the midst of a shitty relationship. Church taught me to forgive and turn the other cheek and try to love everyone and work to be Jesus to the nations. How was I supposed to know that following all of the fucking rules would lead to nothing but PTSD, deep depression, a loathing for my body and brain that is unparalleled to anything I have ever understood, and aloneness for the last 3 years of my life?
I read marriage/relationship books about how to be a better girlfriend and figure out how to have a happy relationship. I asked those that I could, studied blogs and everything I could find about relationships. I put in my hours trying to figure out why the only relationships I found myself in were ones that caused me mass amounts of pain. I even took a sexual assault nursing course (for all of 3 weeks until the flashbacks got too intense and I became thoroughly traumatized from the stories we had to read). I tried to figure out how to fix it, then I had to figure out how to leave, ALL BY MYSELF. I had to figure out red flags and final straws and escape plans, ALL BY MYSELF. I had to figure out how to survive so many terrible things ALL BY MYSELF.
That's why I couldn't leave. That's why I stayed for so long. I was in the Word, I was praying, I was going to church, I was reaching out for help and being met with silence at every turn. That's why I stayed. I was fighting to breathe and struggling to break free, and so no, I couldn't just walk out after the first assault. It took all I had to not find a way to die. I was even praying that G-d would just take me, any way He wanted, because I didn't even have the strength to do it myself. I was even helping Him by suggesting plans of how to take me!
Why did I stay? Because I couldn't leave.
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